


New Eternity

by Emrys_Fae



Series: Spooky Wars [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Character Death, Dark Magic, Dyad Bond, It's not working, Look Palpatine is very fascinated by Obi-Wan, M/M, Obi-Wan is NOT happy about any of this, Obi-Wan is trying to pretend Palpatine doesn't exist, Post O66, Sacrifice, forced bonds, one might even call it a crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27200668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emrys_Fae/pseuds/Emrys_Fae
Summary: “No, no,” Palpatine agreed, his voice full of dark promise, that same dark tendril from earlier wrapped around Obi-Wan’s neck again. “We’ve got far grander plans for you than death, Obi-Wan. Far grander plans.”
Relationships: (pre-relationship), Obi-Wan Kenobi & Sheev Palpatine, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Sheev Palpatine
Series: Spooky Wars [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985725
Comments: 26
Kudos: 257
Collections: Spooky Wars Week





	New Eternity

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Новая вечность](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28487223) by [Smoking_breath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smoking_breath/pseuds/Smoking_breath)



> Spooky Wars Week: Day 1 - Dark Magic

The presence of the soldiers on either side of him was almost normal, a strange parody of the way the 212th used to escort him during the war—as though he had not been completely capable of protecting himself.

Now, of course, their presence at either side of him was hardly that of protection; he was just another prisoner in need of detaining.

There was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to open his mouth and demand _answers_. But he knew from the past few weeks’ bitter experience that he would get nothing more than pointed silence.

The hallways they walked down were far from empty; the Senators they passed stared at him gazes dark, as they hushed whispers between themselves.

Obi-Wan raised his chin, shoring up his mental defenses as well as he could with no access to the Force. He was one of the last of the Jedi, one of the few that had survived the genocide that had been enacted against his people.

Trapped in a cell on his own ship, Cody had provided him a holo-recording of the Senate session where Chancellor Palpatine had declared himself Emperor, had declared the Jedi a threat to be destroyed. That recording had been followed by a data pad that listed the reports of Jedi killed, continuously updating as more and more Jedi were declared killed.

He would not let these Senators, these _cowards_ who had cheered when they’d heard of his people’s death—who had cheered while the names of younglings had been added, one by one to the tally of Jedi dead—see him weaken, not even for a moment.

That resolution was tested a moment later as he caught sight of Bail standing frozen to the side of the hallway, eyes darting from the bindings around his wrists to the collar around his neck; there was a clear grief in his eyes, a familiar fear.

Bail nodded at him, a slow, deep gesture that was nonetheless imbued with a depth of emotion. Acknowledgement, grief, recognition.

Bail knew just as well as Obi-Wan did that he was undoubtedly walking towards his death, was just as aware that there was no saving Obi-Wan from this. Obi-Wan found himself strangely comforted with the knowledge that Bail, at least, would grieve his death.

Cody’s presence at his side, escorting him dutifully and dispassionately to his death, made it very clear that there was certainly no one else alive who would do so.

The Chancellor’s office—Obi-Wan supposed he ought to think of it as the Emperor’s office now—loomed ahead of them. Obi-Wan allowed himself only the slightest slowing of his steps as he took in a deep breath in preparation.

Cody and his other escorts from the 212th stopped just outside the door, falling into that same nigh-unnatural stiffness that had pervaded his and all the troopers’ movements since Utapau.

One of the red guard stepped forward. “The Emperor will see you now, General Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan raised a single eyebrow at the formality—and the use of the title he was quite sure had been revoked, he put on his most charming, if also his most sarcastic, smile. “Well, it would be quite rude of me to keep our new despot waiting.”

The red guard didn’t react to his words other than to open the door and usher Obi-Wan in.

Obi-Wan stepped into the room, stopping just within the door as he looked around the room.

He had been in the room far too often as the war had drawn on; he’d been one of the Council’s main strategists, and the Council had been more than grateful to send him to deal with the Strategy Meetings the Chancellor had constantly insisted on.

He wasn’t sure if he was surprised or not, to see that very little had changed. There were still faint indications that a fight had taken place here. Electrical scorches on the hall mostly hidden behind a few plants that had been carefully moved, the walls scored with lightsaber burns in a few places. He didn’t know which of his fellow Jedi had come after the Chancellor, but he had no doubt what their fate had been.

His gaze caught on two figures beside the window, and his mind froze, his heart leaping in his first moment of real hope. “Anakin?” He had known that Anakin was alive, had searched the datapad with the names of the Jedi dead, constantly. Anakin’s name had never appeared. He had hoped, of course, that Anakin had somehow escaped, had somehow been able to get out, to run.

That even if Obi-Wan was going to die, that Anakin was out there safe.

But if Anakin had been taken captive by the 501st the same way Obi-Wan himself had, then perhaps there was still a chance for both of them. Between the two of them they’d pulled off miracles before, perhaps, just perhaps, this would be the next one.

Without weapons they couldn’t take the Chancellor, not if the fate of the other Jedi who’d gone against him was any indication. But they could get out, find a way off Coruscant, start planning.

His former padawan turned at the sound of his name, eyes lighting up at the sight of Obi-Wan. “Obi-Wan, you’re safe!” He smiled.

Obi-Wan froze, that brief glimmer of hope freezing, a block of ice in his chest. Anakin’s eyes were glinting with an almost sulfurous yellow, and Obi-Wan could now see that Anakin wasn’t bound the way Obi-Wan was.

His mind offered up an obvious explanation for what he was seeing, but Obi-Wan couldn’t comprehend it. It wasn’t… it wasn’t _possible_.

Anakin couldn’t have— Anakin wouldn’t have—

From his position beside Anakin, the Chancellor turned. Obi-Wan fixed his eyes on the man, the way he’d rapidly aged practically overnight was a far easier sight than Anakin’s happy, hopeful face and gleaming, yellow eyes.

“General Kenobi.” Palpatine smiled at him, the expression truly unnerving in part because it seemed _genuine_. He waved a hand at the red guard. “There are no need for those bindings, release him.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the shock he felt, barely managing to keep the shock from his face as immediately one of the red guard moved towards the bindings around his wrists with a key. The collar around his neck, however, unlocked itself.

The Force snapped back to him, sudden and immediate, leaving Obi-Wan reeling, trying to slam shields into place against the overwhelming _pain_ and _hatred_ ; the darkness was almost enough to _drown_ him.

And just around his neck, a tendril of darkness, a threatening caress. He gathered the Force around him, shielding himself from the darkness.

Anakin stepped forward, and Obi-Wan found himself horrified as he could _feel_ the sickly darkness leaking from Anakin. “Don’t worry, Obi-Wan. I explained everything to the Chancellor, I told him you had nothing to do with the coup, that you were innocent.”

Obi-Wan stared at his former padawan, who was smiling at him as though the entire world hadn’t fallen apart, smiling at him as though he didn’t feel like cruelty and death, smiling at him as though Obi-Wan hadn’t spent the last few weeks, cycling through the names of the Jedi dead, wondering what he could have done, what he could have changed, that would have saved them.

Had Anakin helped kill them? Is _that_ what had caused this terrible darkness?

Even now, those names cycled through his mind, and Obi-Wan felt a surge of _rage,_ the emotion too strong, too easyto reach. “Innocent.” The word came out sharp, bitter, and he swallowed back the emotion, trying to release the rage. The dead Jedi _deserved_ his grief, but he would not—could not—let himself be overwhelmed by those emotions. “Innocent like the _younglings_? The _padawans_?” He was shaking, he realized, his attempt to release and control his emotions an unending struggle. Behind Anakin, Palpatine was smiling, as though amused by the whole exchange. “Innocent like the rest of the Jedi were innocent?”

Anakin scowled, a hint of rage crossing his face. “The Jedi were corrupt.”

Obi-Wan held back a scoff, giving the two Sith—the Master and his new Apprentice—an overly polite bow, presenting his neck for easy decapitation if they so pleased. “In that case, I welcome the same punishment for corruption that the rest of them faced.”

Anakin reeled back, shock clear on his face. “We’re not going to— we’re not going to _kill_ you.”

And why _not_? Obi-Wan wondered, aching a little with the hurt, and anger, with the desire to _understand_. Why this had happened, and why he’d been chosen to survive when so many had died.

“No, no,” Palpatine agreed, his voice full of dark promise, that same dark tendril from earlier wrapped around Obi-Wan’s neck again. “We’ve got far grander plans for you than death, Obi-Wan. Far grander plans.”

-_-

Whatever plans the Emperor had for him, Obi-Wan didn’t understand them.

He was not free, though both Anakin and Palpatine seemed inclined to give him the illusion of it.

His bindings were gone, the Force collar kept off.

He was given a large, beautiful room in the 500 Republica, with a perfect view of the Jedi Temple.

The grief Obi-Wan felt was nearly overwhelming; he was drowning. The darkness, grief, hatred, loss twisting up and around him, threatening to bring him down into the depths, until he was nothing but that grief and loss.

He couldn’t let it happen. _Refused_ to let it happen.

-_-

He couldn’t take so much as a single step outside his rooms without a squadron of soldiers around him; he highly suspected that there were even more guards and security measures that he couldn’t see.

Not that he particularly wanted to leave his rooms. Not when his rooms were the only place that Anakin—Darth Vader, Obi-Wan had learned was his new ‘name’—was unable to be.

Especially since Anakin seemed to be everywhere else, demanding that Obi-Wan _understand_ , that he give Anakin the validation that he so dearly desired. Obi-Wan had spent half his life reassuring Anakin, of putting Anakin and his needs first, of giving Anakin the validation he seemed to so dearly crave.

Had he truly been so poor a Master that Anakin genuinely thought that Obi-Wan would validate _this_? That he would simply brush it off, as though Obi-Wan’s own love for Anakin, his brother, the boy he’d trained and cared for—and that love was still beating, a painful, aching beat in Obi-Wan’s chest—mattered more than justice? Than truth? Than freedom? Than the lives of the younglings that Anakin had killed?

Apparently so, as Anakin’s presence constantly pressed on his shields, trying to force Obi-Wan to open up the bond that they’d shared for over ten years. Obi-Wan kept his shields up, weathering the headaches it gave him. Anakin was a brute force, had _always_ been brute force. But where Anakin was powerful, Obi-Wan had made up for his lack with technique and skill, and Anakin wouldn’t be able to break down his shields unless Obi-Wan let him or Anakin completely obliterated Obi-Wan’s mind, something Anakin seemed disinclined to push for.

Still, it was exhausting, as Anakin continued to constantly lurk along the edges of Obi-Wan’s existence as though he didn’t have any of his own duties to attend too.

And perhaps, Obi-Wan acknowledged, Anakin didn’t.

Palpatine had his Empire well under control, the war having perfectly prepared the Republic to submit to Palpatine’s comparatively peaceful rule, so long as one was not so unlucky to live on the planets Palpatine decided needed a _firmer_ subjugation.

Anakin, it seemed, was nothing more than window dressing, a lovely little toy for Palpatine to play with as he pleased.

Not, Obi-Wan noted, that Anakin either noticed or cared.

Still if Anakin was Palpatine’s little toy, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but wonder what _his_ role was.

Initially he thought that Palpatine was keeping him alive to keep Anakin in line. But given how little Palpatine seemed to care about Anakin, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but think that there was something _more_.

Denial never did anyone any good, but there was still a part of Obi-Wan that didn’t want to know.

-_-

Anakin might not have been allowed in Obi-Wan’s rooms. But that was a rule that did not seem to apply to the Emperor himself.

Not that Obi-Wan would have truly expected it to.

The Emperor, Obi-Wan suspected, did not believe that there were any rules to which he had to comply.

Often, he’d have Obi-Wan escorted to the Senate Building to join him or Anakin, but at least once a week, the Emperor appeared in Obi-Wan’s rooms, tea and lunch prepared, and insisted Obi-Wan join him.

Obi-Wan had refused the first time, until Palpatine had brought in some of the 212th, sparks of electricity dancing along his fingers, eyes on Obi-Wan in silent challenge.

The clones had betrayed the Jedi, had aided in their slaughter. Cody himself had been the one to turn Obi-Wan over into Palpatine’s hands.

Obi-Wan found that his heart didn’t care.

He joined Palpatine for tea, the lightning fading from Palpatine’s fingers as the member of the 212th was sent away.

Palpatine had smiled at him, a dark glee in his eyes as he forced Obi-Wan into meaningless conversation.

Obi-Wan didn’t enjoy the lunches, but it was a level of consistency in a world where everything was uncertain.

And Palpatine, for all that he was a terrible despot, had moments of being a frustratingly talented conversationalist.

It reminded Obi-Wan strangely of the strategy sessions that he’d often been pulled into during the war. He couldn’t quite place what it was that reminded him of those meetings. Palpatine certainly wasn’t sharing any sort of critical information with him, nor were there any plans to be made on Obi-Wan’s part.

Still, Palpatine watched him with expectant eyes, as though just waiting for Obi-Wan to understand.

Obi-Wan thought he might be better off if he never understood, whatever it was that Palpatine was waiting for.

There would be nothing so easy as death on the other side of it.

-_-

“Tea, Obi-Wan?”

“No, thank you.” Obi-Wan kept his eyes closed, trying to sink back into the meditation he’d found.

It was difficult enough, to find his center, to find peace and light while in the center of the Sith Lord’s new Empire, the gaping hole that was the absence of the Jedi always on the outside of his senses. But Palpatine’s presence, his darkness no longer hidden away, always made it harder.

“Is that the way to treat someone who’s brought your favorite Juma tarts?”

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth, the now-familiar action sending a sharp pain through his whole jaw.

There was a soft touch of the Force against his jaw and neck, almost _forcing_ Obi-Wan to relax. “Now, now, let’s not harm ourselves needlessly.”

Obi-Wan pulled at the Force, brushing the touch of Palpatine in the Force away. He wrapped the Force around himself like a warm blanket, pulling at the little light was still inside him to bolster him against the cold. “Your concern, such as it is, is unneeded.”

He opened his eyes to see Palpatine filling a second cup full of tea.

Obi-Wan could feel the weariness settle against him. Very occasionally, Palpatine would allow Obi-Wan to deny his presence, but that was rare. Apparently, being Emperor of essentially the entirety of the galaxy meant that Palpatine could do as he pleased.

Obi-Wan would be better off accepting the tea and hoping Palpatine didn’t want to _talk_.

If Palpatine had a plan for Obi-Wan that didn’t involve dying, he really wished the Sith Lord would get around to it.

He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to _keep going_. The Jedi were gone, the Republic had Fallen, and Obi-Wan was powerless.

In the immediate aftermath of everything that happened, Obi-Wan had mourned, had grieved for those that had been killed, had _ached_ for them with the whole entirety of his soul.

Now, as the time crawled on and Obi-Wan was kept in beautiful rooms, given beautiful clothes, fed beautiful food… Obi-Wan wished more and more than he’d died with them.

Instead he was trapped in this gilded cage, powerless.

He pushed himself from his position on the ground, taking a moment to stretch—to postpone the moment when he actually had to _deal_ with his captor—before sitting at the table.

Palpatine was observing him, his gaze piercing. Obi-Wan took the offered tea cup, focusing on the tea rather than the man who’d provided it.

For once, Palpatine seemed willing to let Obi-Wan pretend he wasn’t there, amusing himself by testing Obi-Wan’s shields, he dark tendrils of the Force poking and prodding, brushing against him.

“Still so light, after so long,” Palpatine commented, voice almost musing.

Obi-Wan continued to ignore him, sipping at his—frustratingly perfectly made—tea.

“I had thought you would be,” Palpatine continued, sounding more pleased by that fact than Obi-Wan would have expected. “Knew you’d be _perfect_.”

Obi-Wan tightened his grip on the tea cup, a chill running down his spine. It was coming, whatever it was that had convinced Palpatine to keep Obi-Wan alive.

-_-

It didn’t happen, not immediately. Though Obi-Wan could feel it coming closer and closer.

Or perhaps it was merely the fact that Palpatine’s presence in the Force seemed to twist around him, constant and continuous, no matter where Palpatine was.

Obi-Wan was quite certain that running an Empire was supposed to take far more of a person’s attention than Palpatine was currently giving it.

Cody and his 212th escort arrived early one afternoon, informing him that the Emperor had ‘requested’ his presence.

Obi-Wan followed.

He didn’t have much of a choice.

Obi-Wan felt his heart drop as the 212th guided him out of the 500 Republica and towards, not the Senate Building where he was normally taken, but in the direction of the Jedi Temple.

“Please, not this.” The words came out quieter than a whisper, a strangled plea. He couldn’t go back there, not where he’d feel the deaths so much more clearly, where he’d feel the desperation, the hopelessness, the pain.

He didn’t know if they didn’t hear him, or if they simply didn’t care, but the speeder kept moving steadily towards the Jedi Temple.

He could feel a faint tremble in his limbs, could feel the _cry_ of the Force, a soft, desolate thing that echoed deep in his bones, somehow louder than the race of speeders passing him by, but also so quiet that it was not a heard at all, only felt.

Too soon, they reached the Temple.

In some ways, the Temple looked like it always had. The spires rising up above even the tallest of Coruscant buildings, a beacon of light and warmth. But where that visual cue had always been accompanied by a similar sensation in the Force, the illusion fell apart.

The Temple was not a beacon of light and warmth, it was not the welcoming home it had been since Obi-Wan’s earliest thoughts.

Now it was the tomb of his family, and he could hear their death cries, feel their loss so keenly it was ice in his blood.

Anakin stood on the steps of the temple, waiting impatiently.

Another illusion of what had once been.

“I’ve got it from here,” Anakin informed his escorts brusquely, grabbing at Obi-Wan’s arm.

The 212th said nothing, just taking a sentry position just within the doors of the temple.

Obi-Wan shivered as they stepped through the halls of the Temple, the silence weighed on him, unnatural. Beside him, Anakin was practically vibrating with excitement and poorly hid glee.

Obi-Wan hadn’t willing started a conversation with Anakin since before Utapau, but he broke his own silent rule now. “What are we doing here?” Obi-Wan asked, keeping his voice as neutral as possible.

There could be nothing good, not with Anakin’s excitement, not with their presence in the Temple.

Anakin didn’t answer immediately, clearly thinking over the situation. “I went to the Chancel—” he paused, correcting himself. “The Emperor with some concerns I’ve been having.” Concerns about Obi-Wan, went unspoken. “He believes he’s found an answer for me.”

A chill ran down Obi-Wan’s back.

“You don’t need to do this, Anakin.”

Anakin’s face contorted for a moment, frustration, anger, rage, hope. “You’re all I have left, Obi-Wan.”

“You can’t trust his promises, Anakin, you have to realize that.”

Anakin just shook his head, and Obi-Wan had seen that stubborn tilt time and time and time again.

Anakin led him through the halls of the Temple, lower and lower, the darkness growing stronger and stronger. Obi-Wan felt his concern and unease grow as they moved past the well used corridors of the Temple, through the maintenance corridors, down into hallways that felt musty with disuse.

He had walked the halls of this Temple all his life, and yet now he felt lost, as though he’d stumbled into a world that he’d never known about.

Down and down, darker and darker, the Force seemed to twist around him, uncontrolled darkness caressing him, testing him, pulling at him as though eager to drag him further and further down.

The darkness felt _older_ here, Obi-Wan realized.

How long had it been here? How had he never seen it before?

Though, hadn’t he thought the very same thing about Palpatine? Wondering how such darkness had hidden.

They stepped through a final doorway, the cold so deep that Obi-Wan imagined that his breath would crystallize in the air in front of him, for all that the air itself was almost pleasant.

Palpatine looked up as they entered, setting down a knife he’d been using to carve into what looked to be a literal _altar_.

Obi-Wan stared, mind running through the implications.

It was just the three of them, the three of them, a Sith Altar, and what appeared to be a ceremonial knife.

He knew, without a doubt, that _anything_ performed on a Sth Altar could not be good, could only spell further terror and horror.

But despite himself, for one selfish moment, he felt relief.

Death.

They had kept him alive past the destruction of his people, his family, past the betrayal of everyone else he cared for. They had played their games with him, twisting at him, taunting him, but now, finally he would find death.

But that relief couldn’t last; what sort of darkness would they wreck with his death?

Palpatine let out a cruel smile, radiating menace as he met Obi-Wan’s gaze. “Bring him here, Lord Vader.”

Anakin’s hand wrapped around his arm, tugging him towards the altar.

Obi-Wan _wanted_ to struggle, but at the same time, he refused to give them the satisfaction, let the fear course through him and let it go.

He reached out to the Force, slipping past the darkness that surrounded him, searching for the light.

Palpatine was still watching him, the knife once again in his hand glinting in the light. “This shrine has been here for thousands of years, forgotten by the Jedi.” He shook his head in fake admonishment. “It will stand for thousands more, put to use as it should have been, the birthplace of our power.”

“You fool yourself if you think your Empire will last that long.”

Palpatine smiled, a cold glee. “Oh, it will, just you wait and see.”

There was a flash of movement, Palpatine’s hand moving in a Force-assisted blur, the knife still in his hand.

There was no time to brace himself for the hit, but the knife passed harmlessly beside him.

There was a soft, surprised noise of pain from his side and Obi-Wan realized that the cut had never been aimed at him.

For a second, Anakin simply looked shocked, one hand coming to his neck to touch the cut, before pulling his hand away to look at the smudge of blood on his fingers. The cut was small and thin, it wouldn’t even scar, despite the blood trickling down his neck. “Wha—”

From the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan saw Palpatine flick the blood on the knife so that it landed on the Altar, no more than a few specks.

The Force in the room _surged_ Darkness rising up in, swelling around them as though it would swallow them all whole.

Everything splintered in a cacophony of noise and sensation, The Force seemed to _break_ against them, Anakin _screaming_ , pain filling the room as he fell to his knees, hands clenching at his head.

Obi-Wan reached for him, a decade of instinct telling him to help Anakin, always, always, to help Anakin.

“Anakin!”

In the background Palpatine was laughing, a high cackle. The Force around him a whirlwind that seemed to be ripping at them, ripping at _Anakin_ , as though pulling Anakin apart.

Obi-Wan could feel Anakin pulling on the bond, a plea for help, safety, protection.

His eyes were wide, still that sickly yellow, for all that they were filled with the desperate plea of the child that Obi-Wan had _raised_.

 _“Help.”_ The word was choked out past two heart-wrenching screams. _“Help me.”_

Obi-Wan had not forgiven Anakin, but he could not let Anakin hurt. He did not know what Palpatine had done, could not dismiss the idea that this could be a trap of some sort.

Anakin screamed again, eyes still staring into Obi-Wan’s own with clear desperation.

Obi-Wan opened the bond.

Anakin’s presence in the Force was clawing at him, as though he was trying to climb out of his own mind and into Obi-Wan’s.

Obi-Wan could feel the phantom echo of pain, of being ripped apart at the very core.

He didn’t hesitate, following the pathway into Anakin’s mind, searching for whatever it was that was trying to wrench Anakin apart.

Darkness assailed him, Anakin’s own darkness, so much deeper and older than Obi-Wan had realized, a foreign, but attacking at Anakin’s own darkness was something so much darker, something ancient and fearsome.

Obi-Wan knew, just seeing it, that he couldn’t beat it.

He threw himself at it, anyway, trying to throw himself between the not-quite-sentient darkness tearing Anakin apart.

The darkness twisted from where it was attacking Anakin, lashing out at Obi-Wan, pinning him fast.

He could still hear Anakin, his screams echoing through both their minds, even as they started to fade away as everything _Anakin_ was shredded, ripped apart, undone, by this terrifying, unceasing darkness.

There was so much darkness, Anakin, the _thing_ tearing Anakin apart, it wasn’t until a new darkness had wrapped around him, soul against soul, that he realized a third had joined the fray.

 _I told him that I’d get you to open your bond back up to him, that you’d let him in, and he gave up so much of himself willingly. You never would have been able to watch him in pain, despite the fact that pain was all he wrought_ , Palpatine’s voice whispered against him. _Your world destroyed, and yet here you are, still so very light, my perfect opposite. We shall be glorious._

Obi-Wan had a single moment where he knew it was a trap, even if he still didn’t understand _what_ the trap was for.

Things that _were_ didn’t simply cease to be, Obi-Wan knew. They could be changed, transformed, remade.

Anakin had been undone, but everything that had _been_ Anakin, was still trapped in the grasp of the dark magic that Palpatine had wielded.

He knew Anakin, not as well as he’d thought, perhaps, but he still knew Anakin. Could feel those things that had _been_ Anakin. Powerful, stubborn, strong, unyielding being remade, twisting around Obi-Wan, twisting around the darkness that was Palpatine.

Binding them, twining them together. He lashed out, trying to free himself, trying to escape.

He was a single leaf in a whirlwind, a lonely star in an endless night.

_Yes, yes. I knew you’d be the one, my perfect opposite, the unvanquished light to my endless darkness._

His very soul was being twisted and forged, two incompatible souls.

And then there was _pain, pain, nothing but pain_.

-_-

He opened his eyes, the world coming back into form with a few blurry blinks. He was on his side, the stone altar in front of him.

He groaned, the world twisting unpleasantly.

He turned his head, trying to take in the room around him. Anakin lay a few feet away. Wide, empty eyes staring back at Obi-Wan.

He looked whole and hale, the only mark the small cut on his neck. But it was nothing more than crude matter, Anakin was gone.

Not just dead. Gone. His very being unmade.

A cold laugh passed through the room and Obi-Wan turned towards the sound. He knew the man he saw was Palpatine, but he looked nothing like the twisted figure that Obi-Wan had known.

“I always knew that boy would be of use. The perfect conduit, his power the perfect binding and sacrifice.” Palpatine touched his own face, smile forming. “Our first step towards Eternal Life, Obi-Wan. We’ve done very well.”

Obi-Wan pushed himself up, body trembling. “What did you do?” He could feel a strange tremble through and around him, like a cloak of shadow had been dropped around him.

Palpatine smiled at him, any doubts Obi-Wan might have had about Palpatine’s identity put to rest by the familiar sense of superiority. “I tapped into the core of the Force itself, created the most powerful bond to exist.”

“ _Why_?” What was the point, why would Palpatine _want_ this. And why had he chosen Obi-Wan?

“A Force Dyad, a source of limitless power, at our fingertips. The Force itself placed us on opposite sides of it’s conduit, it was simple to take the bonds we both shared with Vader, to take _Vader,_ and bind us as the Force willed.”

This could not possibly be the will of the Force.

He searched desperately for where the bond should be, he would tear it out at it’s roots, even if it destroyed his own mind.

But there was no bond.

They were not just _connected_ , Obi-Wan realized. Whatever Palpatine had done had bound them far more than that.

Palpatine straightened. “Come, Obi-Wan.” There was a tug against his very soul, pulling Obi-Wan to follow. “You’re no longer allowed to hide away in your rooms, my Empire will want to meet the man who’ll be at my side.”

“I will _never_ stand at your side.” Obi-Wan refused to move forward, resisting the pull that insisted that he _was_ supposed to be at the Palpatine’s side.

Palpatine didn’t seem the surprised, in fact Obi-Wan could sense that he was _excited_ , _gleeful_. “Oh, no doubt it’ll be a fight every step of the way. But there’s no denying the will of the Force. Not for me, and certainly not for you.” Palpatine stepped closer to him, invading his space and filling the room around them with a heavy pressure within the Force, weighing on Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan swallowed down bile as he realized the darkness felt like it was almost an _extension_ of him. He wrapped the light around him, a warm embrace amongst the darkness; he hoped that his light, meager as it was, gave Palpatine at least a small measure of that same discomfort.

The other half of his soul—the thought was sickening, but also undisputedly true—was standing in front of him, and Obi-Wan found that he was _afraid_. And then Palpatine was sweeping the emotion away.

“If I were you, Obi-Wan, I would start preparing for our new eternity.”

**Author's Note:**

> I TRIED to write Odious... (Obi-Wan/Sidious) But it... didn't *quite* happen, but it IS pre-relationship (they're going to be stuck together for a VERY long time, since Palpatine has plans for immortality). I think my next attempt will be better.


End file.
